Tuesday, August 10, 2010

We Interrupt This Program To Tear A Wall Out Of Your Office

I am just sitting here in bewildered shock, so I thought I'd tell you about my lovely morning because I know how much some of you like the weird things that seem to only happen to me. Here's the gist of the conversation I had with Buddy...

Buddy: You're going to have to cancel the LOH board meeting on the 15th.

Me: **Silence because it's still too early to speak and because rerouting board meetings is like derailing a train.**

Buddy: We have a major mold problem in the garage.

Me: You mean the leaky air conditioner that I told you about in October (yes, I really did warn him about this in October--maybe earlier--when it was a simple project).

Buddy: Uh, yeah. That's the one.

Me: **brain makes a creaking and popping sound**

I admit to slight irritation at this point.

Buddy: Well, it's starting to stink out there.

I need to pause and explain that my dad has no sense of smell. He suffers from really, really bad sinus infections and has had lots of surgeries for sinus windows, etc. It destroyed his sense of smell. He can't even smell a fully crap-loaded diaper (which you can smell from California if said diaper is in Texas). So, when I originally told him about the problem, he said, "I don't smell anything." There you go. Must not stink, then. This is exactly what happens when you tell Clanpaw you're hearing a funny noise. He's stone cold deaf. He knows it. But if he doesn't hear it, there is no noise (remind me to tell you about the washing machine some day).

So, I went about my business because arguing with brick walls about the stench in the office was accomplishing nothing. If Buddy smells it now, though, you know it's bad. I admit to a bit of office avoidance lately due to the unpleasantness (mold makes it hard for me to breathe)...and have been doing things remotely...even when I'm there. I only go in when I have to physically touch something.

Me: No, it's not "starting to." It's been gradually stinking more and more for months. Attrition and I have been losing the battle trying to keep it clean, dry and aired out. We quit about two weeks ago.

Buddy: Well, it looks like we're going to have to take out (the outside) wall.

At this point, stark terror erupts in the pit of my stomach. The outside wall...as in open the office to the elements in the middle of the summer and allergy season in Texas??!? Over half the network is in there. And tons of maps. Usually, these pronouncements come about two or three hours after the first sledge hammer has hit. And then, I have to hop in my car (because my phone is screaming by then), drive like a banshee, and spend an hour explaining something like why computers and sheet rock dust do not make good bedfellows.

Me: Please, please, please swear on your grave that you will not lay a finger on the wall or the network until I can get there and relocate all the computers. Don't even move a keyboard. Swear it. Or I'll put you in it. Swear. Now. I mean NOW.

Buddy: I would never do that.

Me: (thinking) Uh oh. He has obviously forgotten some past history here. Crap.

So, how to tear down the network strategically and keep it mostly running at the same time...a sys admin nightmare only because people (even family people) expect the network to mostly run even when you tear it down. Bizarre. The good thing this demolition will accomplish is hopefully the rewiring of that awful outlet that keeps shorting out and ruining UPS's. And maybe a window in that wall? I could stand to stare at a tree now and then.

OH WAIT! I suddenly had a vision of myself wielding a sledgehammer or some other kind of destructive implement on the office wall. THERAPY! Should I be worried at how much I like that idea? Quite possibly, yes. But if I have to get involved in yet another colossal DIY project, I might as well enjoy myself, right? Especially if it's going to involve sweat and gypsum dust in the ninety degree heat. We really should have built that outdoor shower...this will involve more streaking.